


Perks

by thefuckboydraco



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 10:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7930390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefuckboydraco/pseuds/thefuckboydraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The contract is legally binding, of course, but it does have its perks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perks

They are sitting in Jonny’s kitchen. There are two strawberry smoothies between them, and Kaner really should have known something was up the second Jonny pulled the vanilla almond milk out of the fridge with the container of shiny, bright red, organic strawberries, and started making small talk like they hadn’t just lost the playoffs in the first round. Kaner really really should have known better right then and there, but he didn’t, and here they are.

He fidgets. Jonny keeps talking.

“The contract is legally binding, of course, but it does have its perks. There's the yoga studio membership, access to the building concierge within reason, and massage appointments if you want them. Plus I'm planning a trip to Nepal, and obviously you can use the gym, that's a given. All told it's a good deal.”

Jonny slides the very official looking pile of paperwork in Kaner’s direction. And pulls a shiny pen from somewhere inside his hoodie.

Kaner stares at him. “I have a gym in my building.”

“Right. Uh. So the contract stipulates that your place goes on the market. Do you really want to live in a Trump property right now anyway?” Jonny sounds so earnest it almost makes Kaner forget the absurdity of the situation.

“You're not even from here,” he says. “You can't even vote.”  

“Jesus, Kaner. That's not the damn point.”

Kaner pulls a hand through his curls. He closes his eyes for a second. “Have you read this whole thing?” He taps the stack of papers. “This is basically a prenup.”

“Yeah.”

“ _Yeah_ ? Are you kidding me, man? _Yeah_?”

Jonny shrugs. Looks down. Falters for a bit in a way that Kaner finds limitlessly charming. “We won't be—married. But.” He shrugs again. “It'll be just as good as.”

“You're not even gay,” Kaner says, exasperation creeping into his voice, his lisp acting up, an annoying symptom of his anxiety.

“That's not the point.”

“That's not the—that's not the point? Tazer. Did the losing the series fry your mind? Was it too much green juice? The fuck, man.” Kaner shakes himself. “It's not. It's not a fucking joke.”

Jonny’s whole face screws up, like he's got no ability to control his features if he's not in front of a presser.

“Kaner. _Peeks_. It's not—it’s not a joke. It's—” Jonny heaves a giant sigh, one of those frustrated huffs of breath Kaner’s so accustomed to from Jonny’s in-game tantrums. “I just want to protect you.”

For a moment Kaner is at a loss for words. He can feel himself nodding vigorously in the negative, disbelief filling him up, pushing him to anger while his eyes fill with tears in spite of himself.

“It's a long off-season,” says Jonny. “Too long.”

Kaner wipes at his cheeks, swiping away at the wetness there. “I don't need to be protected. I don't need you to effectively _marry_ me to protect me. And I'm—I can't—I can't believe you, man. You're supposed to—have my _back_.”

“This is the best way I know how to do that.”

“ _Tazer_.”

“It wouldn't be so bad, Peeksy. I’d take care of you. Make sure you're not.” Jonny looks down, a blush staining his cheeks. His Adam’s apple bobs. “I'd make sure you're satisfied.” When he looks up, and his eyes meet Kaner’s, they're so dark they look like they're all pupil, and Jonny licks his lips in a way that makes it impossible to misinterpret his meaning.

“You're not _gay,”_ says Kaner, exasperated, back to the frankly less painful argument against this stupid plan.

“I could be!” Jonny shouts. “What do you know?”

Kaner’s mouth drops open and he stands up, putting both palms down flat on Jonny’s kitchen table and leaning in, squinting. “I _know_ that you spent five years lying next to me in the dark with four feet and a fucking _ocean_ between us, and I _know_ that every night I lay there, and thought about fucking jerking you off, like maybe if I just thought hard enough about it you'd climb into bed with me and let me, and I know you never did, and you must have— _Jonathan_ —you must have known how bad I wanted you.” He's spitting, he knows that too, tongue getting caught up in mouth.

Jonny’s eyes flicker down, his long lashes dark against his cheeks. He looks back up, frown lines spanning his expressive brow before he speaks.

“You're not exactly subtle, Peeks.” Jonny’s smile is gentle, fond.

Kaner isn't. He's worn his heart on his sleeve his whole life.

“You never said anything,” Kaner says, feeling something like betrayal tug at his gut. “Why didn't you—”

“What? Say: God, I can't watch you bite at your own mouth for a second longer without touching you? Say: I keep the door open now because I miss the sound of your breath? Your stupid,”— Jonny laughs, helpless. “The stupid way you snuffle into your pillow? Your bad taste in television, your insistence on eating candy, your love of terrible beer? What should I have said?”

“Jonny, _I_ —”

“I miss that gross brush you travel with. The one full of your hair. I miss that brush.”

“Oh,” says Kaner.

“I'm not gay,” Jonny says, making quotations with his fingers. “But I'm—” he grimaces. “Gay for you. I guess. If you need to know.”

“Fuck me,” Kaner says, ever eloquent.

Jonny laughs outright, and his mouth curls into that mischievous smile of his. “Yeah, that too.” He pats his thigh with one hand, and lowers his chin, like he's asking for Kaner to perch on his lap. “C’mere,” he says. “Come over here.”

Kaner almost crawls over the table between them, but he stops himself, swiping one hand through his hair, a nervous tic. Jonny pats his thigh again and Kaner goes to him, walks slowly around the table’s pointed corners with a much composure as he can manage and then Jonny scoots back in his chair, making room between his thighs. Kaner can't help but notice the way Jonny’s muscles strain against his gym shorts. He knows what Jonny’s dick looks like. They're not strangers to each other’s bodies. Kaner leans back against the table, palms hooked over each edge, like this, he's taller than Jonny, he can look down into Jonny’s dark eyes, see the places where his hair has thinned a little. They're getting old—no, _older_. He's getting older.

“You come here,” Kaner says.

Jonny stands up, he boxes Kaner in, his hands on either side of Kaner’s. His thumbs over the backs of Kaner’s hands, stroking.

“Are you going to sign the contract?”

Kaner lifts his chin up. He chews at his lower lip, digging his teeth in. Jonny twitches a little, just a hitch in his brow.

“Dunno,” Kaner says, slowly, considering. “It might depend on how good of a kisser you are. I wouldn't want to legally bind myself to some boring, not gay, health nut and then find out he can't kiss for shit.”

“I'm the best kisser, just watch me.”

Kaner makes a high little humming sound, and then, like he’s trying to win something, Jonny kisses him. Catches his lips with his, tilts Kaner’s head how he wants it with one hand on his cheek, and sets about kissing the breath out of him, tongue sliding into Kaner’s mouth when he inhales with a sharp, short gasp, blood rushing in his ears, leaving his brain behind and heading south with shocking rapidity.

“See?” Jonny says against his lips. “I told you.”

“ _Mmmm_ ” Kaner hums again, like maybe he isn't sure. Like maybe he's hoping Jonny will lift him up by his thighs and kiss him on top of his roughly-hewn farmhouse table, on top of the contract Jonny somehow thinks is a good idea. Like maybe if he pretends not to have just admitted to wanting Jonny this close to him for as long as he can remember, Jonny will turn him around and press his chest to Kaner’s back, his dick against Kaner’s ass, and fumble both of their pants down just enough to touch in the right places. He hums like he wants all of that and more, and figures if he just pushes a little bit harder he’ll get it.

And he will.

“You did tell me” he says, kissing Jonny back. “You usually do.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't going to post this, but here we are. Stay tuned come October, kiddos.


End file.
